Xie Jing had never entered the Imperial Ancestral Temple to pay respects to the ancestors of former dynasties—nor would he necessarily have the opportunity to enter, as female relatives were not allowed into the ancestral hall, and his status was essentially no different from a “female relative.”
But even with his eyes closed, he could imagine that the portraits of successive emperors and empresses enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple, with their yellow backing and vermilion borders, were uniformly solemn and gloomy, their emotions indiscernible, so placid as to be almost unreal, as if they were not simply no longer alive but had never lived at all.
This was a treasonous thought, one Xie Jing would at most turn over in his mind, but he genuinely thought this way—every time the Emperor and Empress Wang appeared before him together, he would have the illusion that these two living, middle-aged people seemed to have been painted decades in advance, and their every movement and demeanor stirred up a heavy, deathly stillness.
Separately, they each had their own nature—the emperor might humiliate Lu Lingcong before the officials, and Empress Wang could issue a quiet warning to Xie Jing when no one else was around, yet they still carried the seven emotions and six desires, a trace of human warmth.
But standing together, they turned back into two cold, lifeless paintings.
Xie Jing was certain that the Emperor and Empress had noticed his and Lu Lingcong’s interlocked hands when they stepped into Shenlong Hall but neither of them pointed out the detail, merely accepting their great three kneelings and nine kowtows in silence and accepting the tea Xie Jing presented with both hands raised over his head.
As for the conversation outside the curtain just now and the absence from yesterday’s wedding banquet, neither the emperor nor Empress Wang ever mentioned them. If not forgotten, then it must have been intentional.
This was an established tacit understanding in the palace: everything was hinted at, and no one would speak plainly or directly or pierce that layer of paper over the window. Whoever the absence was meant for, whoever the words “pick a few girls of clean background and send them into the Prince’s Mansion” were meant for, whoever understood this should know how to act from now on.
There is no harm without comparison, and after being gone for less than an hour, Xie Jing already began to miss Prince Zhao’s Mansion—at least one could breathe and make a sound there.
They did not linger in Shenlong Hall for too long; the Emperor did not say much, clearly still indicating a punishment for Lu Lingcong’s loss of composure and resistance that night, and Empress Wang calmly gave a few more instructions similar to “being of one heart and one mind,” then waved her hand before allowing the two to withdraw.
It was not until they were seated in the carriage on the way toward the West Palace that Xie Jing quietly said, “Sometimes I truly admire the Empress.”
Lu Lingcong quietly watched the subtle movements of the person next to him and said, “Hm?”
“To endure in this place for nearly thirty years, I would have gone crazy long ago.”
He met Lu Lingcong’s gaze and emphasized seriously once more, “It’s the kind of crazy where you can’t even recognize people or remember things.”
Lu Lingcong let out a soft laugh, “Is it that exaggerated?”
Xie Jing nodded with certainty and said seriously, “If that day truly comes, you absolutely must not lock me up; it would be best to drive me out of the palace to fend for myself—”
Lu Lingcong’s smile deepened: “And then?”
“—And then I’ll probably be fine soon after.”
After he finished speaking, he laughed too; only now did he feel like he could finally breathe smoothly.
Lu Lingcong turned his gaze away, staring at the overlapping corners of their red robes: “Even if that day truly comes, I wouldn’t lock you up either.”
He added faintly, “If even a temperament like yours can be grounded down into madness, then I surely won’t be far behind. At that time, the two of us, two lunatics, will face each other every day and just muddle through until we are buried.”
Xie Jing imagined that scene, which was miserable but also genuinely a bit comical, and he rested his elbow on the window lattice before propping up his face and laughing for a while longer.
Lu Lingcong suddenly asked, “Do you remember what oath I made to you at the Jade Terrace last time?”
Xie Jing was startled by the question, stopped laughing, and hummed, “You said that the events of that night in Linhai Hall would never occur in Prince Zhao’s Mansion in this lifetime.”
Lu Lingcong asked earnestly, “So living life with me might not drive you to the point of going completely mad, right?”
Xie Jing pondered for a moment: “I believe you will stick to your word. Actually, if it’s just about spending a lifetime in the Prince’s Mansion, I have no concerns.”
Lu Lingcong understood his meaning—living life inside Prince Zhao’s Mansion was only at the level of ‘self-cultivation and family harmony,’ where everything was negotiable; but if Lu Lingcong were inevitably pushed into that position, what he ought to consider would become ‘governing the state and bringing peace to the world,’ and whether he could still give Xie Jing such a promise at that time was something neither of them could predict.
Xie Jing was an utterly insightful person, and Lu Lingcong knew the efficacy of “oaths” in these matters was laughable; even if he spoke them, Xie Jing would not easily be convinced either, so he could only state his position candidly:
“Emperor Father and Empress Mother rarely speak their true feelings; what they just said about not forcing you to bear children if you didn’t want to is probably not sincere.”
Xie Jing did not reply, which counted as a tacit agreement.
“At least on this one thing I dare to promise—what I speak are all my true feelings; I would rather not say words against my conscience.”
Xie Jing remained silent for a long time, quietly wiping the sweat from his palm with the edge of his sleeve and then asked all of sudden, “What do you think?”
Lu Lingcong didn’t quite catch on and looked at him inquiringly.
Xie Jing met his gaze, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then said:
“The Empress said that adopting a concubine-born son to raise as mine would also be considered a son of the legal wife, so what about you? What do you think? Do you want children?”
He didn’t leave him a chance to question back and swiftly articulated what he truly wanted to say, “Our child.”
Lu Lingcong stared blankly at him, his lips trembling slightly. He was always unable to decipher what was hidden beneath Xie Jing’s seemingly crystal-clear eyes, just as he had never imagined that Empress Wang’s words would cause such a ripple in Xie Jing’s ears, and even less that Xie Jing would pose such a question to him.
He opened his mouth but ultimately did not speak and then tightly pursed his lips again.
Xie Jing, however, let out a short laugh, lightly turned his face away, and said no more.
“I would rather not say words against one’s conscience,” he understood.
The West Palace was where the imperial concubines from the Ye Ting[mfn]The palace quarters for concubines and attendants.[/mfn] resided; Lady Wu lived in the Mingluan Palace to the north, and on the way, they passed through a long stretch of Yong Alley, where the carriage wheels rumbled over the bricks and stones.
Logically, Xie Jing had walked this path before, but after all, too many years had passed; he could barely remember the events, let alone an alleyway.
As the first lunar month was not yet over, and coinciding with Prince Zhao’s marriage, the Mingluan Palace could be said to have double happiness; several palace lanterns hung high beneath the corridor with colored glaze candle covers painted with figures, flowers, and birds. The window screens, curtains, and hangings were all replaced with brand-new begonia-red colors, but white plum trees were planted in the courtyard just as in the Prince’s Mansion. Xie Jing faintly smelled a similar delicate fragrance, suggesting they were all famous specimens transplanted from Mount Mei on the east side of the city.
This allowed his heart that had been slightly knotted since morning to relax a little.
But Xie Jing did not expect that Lady Wu was actually standing right outside the palace gate waiting for them.
This was the first time he had examined his other “mother” this closely. Lady Wu was a typical Jiangnan gentlewoman, small in stature; her appearance bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Lu Lingcong, and the remaining three-tenths of difference was reflected in her smiling eyes.
When Lu Lingcong smiled, he was warm and dazzling, but when he didn’t smile, the corners of his eyes lost their curve, and a slight narrowing brought out the inherent dignity and indifference of the Imperial Family without needing anger. Lady Wu, on the other hand, had eyes that were always curved like crescent moons whether or not her lips held a smile, making it impossible for people not to find her amiable.
She did not give her son and daughter-in-law a chance to exchange pleasantries first; she had already walked forward halfway across the courtyard, looking joyfully at Xie Jing, and said, “I can finally say a few words to you!”
Xie Jing was slightly dazed by the rush of enthusiasm, instinctively called out “Consort Mother,” and was led by Lady Wu in the front, followed by a crowd of palace attendants, vaguely ushered into the inner hall. He turned his head, looking for Lu Lingcong for help, but the latter hadn’t followed and instead leaned leisurely against the doorway while watching him idly.
The Mandarin that Consort Wu spoke carried a hint of the Yue dialect; Xie Jing could catch about ninety percent of it, but overall, it was a gentle lament about how much he resembled his childhood appearance, and so forth.
The Yue people were skilled in trade, and Yue women were bright and beautiful. Lu Lingcong’s maternal uncle excelled in business, while his mother, a consort in the palace, had given birth to the Eldest Imperial Prince. It was therefore unsurprising that, even though the Wu family ranked at the very bottom of the scholar-farmer-artisan-merchant hierarchy, they were highly respected both inside and outside the capital.
“Are you accustomed to the food in the Prince’s Mansion? Are you comfortable living there?”
Before Xie Jing could answer, Lu Lingcong spoke first: “He’s only slept one night and eaten one meal. How could he possibly know if he’s comfortable or not?”
Lady Wu rolled her eyes at him and only said to Xie Jing, “Zifeng is used to being wild, and sometimes he’s also extremely annoying; don’t pay him any mind.”
“The Prince’s Mansion is very good.” Xie Jing’s silver tongue was completely useless in this situation, and after a long while, he could only squeeze out the dry adjective ‘good’, “His Highness also treats me well.”
Neither Lady Wu nor Lu Lingcong had likely anticipated the latter half of the sentence, and for a moment, they both stared at him, forcing Xie Jing to nod and drink tea to conceal his embarrassment.
His original intention was not to say that Lu Lingcong treated him well; Lu Lingcong didn’t treat him exceptionally well—nor did he treat him exceptionally poorly—no, the point was not whether Lu Lingcong treated him well or not, but that he had to make Lady Wu think Lu Lingcong treated him well.
And Xie Jing’s goal was clearly achieved; his embarrassment likely appeared as shyness in Lady Wu’s eyes, so she patted his wrist again and said understandingly, “He must have accumulated incredible merit to marry you; with such fortune, he naturally cannot treat you poorly.”
After chatting for half a day and having lunch in Mingluan Palace, when the time came, they bid farewell to Lady Wu and left the palace. Prince Zhao’s Mansion was only a few streets away from the Taichu Palace. When they returned, it was almost the end of noon; the warm winter sun streamed onto the eaves, and the little bit of residual snow, which was better than nothing, also melted away with a dripping sound.
Xie Jing followed behind Lu Lingcong back to the inner courtyard, and as they passed through the covered walkway, he saw the sunlight falling on the tips of the plum branches, where the porcelain-white flowers formed clusters and clumps, reflecting the light of the sky more brightly, sweeping away the gloom of continuous rain and snow, and revealing a radiant world.
Lu Lingcong noticed he had stopped, turned his head, and waited for him quietly.
Xie Jing, however, simply leaned against the banister and sat down. He really hadn’t seen such fine weather in a long time; the sky was high and vast, reminding him of the boundless clear skies of Chen Commandery in the northern lands.
But the water in the pond gently swayed, with only a few pitiful, fragmented, thin pieces of ice, and the vastly different climate and season reminded him that he was also thousands of miles away from his native land.
A snap of the fingers then sounded in his ear; Xie Jing turned his face as Lu Lingcong tossed over a soft brocade cushion. He raised his hand to catch it and asked, “What is this?”
“The maids sometimes sit on the porch when they do needlework and use this to sit on.” Lu Lingcong took a seat beside him, turning inward but leaning back fully against the chair, utterly relaxed. He stretched out, bending his long legs with one foot resting on his knee, sitting in a casually slovenly manner.
Xie Jing said, “Oh” as he tucked the brocade cushion beneath him to sit on, then stretched comfortably.
“There’s nothing much to do anyway; if you’re tired, go back inside and catch up on sleep.”
Xie Jing shook his head: “If I catch up now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight; we still have to return home to pay our respects tomorrow.”
Lu Lingcong did not urge him further and said again, “I saw a camphor wood chest in the main hall this morning, did you bring it?”
“The only things that are genuinely mine are just a few pieces of calligraphy and painting inside that. While the rest,” Xie Jing slowly counted on his fingers, “there are the qin and se, a lot of fabric, that dagger—oh, and your wine recipe, returned to its original owner.”
Lu Lingcong glanced at him: “These were given to you as betrothal gifts.”
“I know, but the Xie family is not as wealthy and substantial as the Prince’s Mansion. To save face, I had no choice but to bring them back as part of my dowry.”
The wisps of hair at Xie Jing’s temples were thinly gilded by the sunlight, adding a touch of softness to his face that was otherwise beautiful to the point of being sharp. Lu Lingcong could even clearly see the fine, short downy hairs on his skin, like some kind of soft small animal.
He thought to himself that the first taste of intimacy was indeed addictive; he had only slept skin-to-skin with Xie Jing for one night, yet he found it hard to resist the impulse to get closer to him.
So, Lu Lingcong subtly averted his eyes and said:
“I don’t know how wealthy your family is, but I’ve certainly seen the sheer number of books. You were asleep yesterday and missed seeing it; the carriages delivering the books were lined up grandly outside the gate, carrying them inside bundle by bundle. People probably thought I was going to open an academy in the Prince’s Mansion.”
The most numerous items in the “dowry” Xie Jing brought from home were books—he had entirely cleared out his room, instructing people to carefully wrap and pack everything into boxes, then had them transported to Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
“So?” Xie Jing asked, “Where did you settle them?”
Lu Lingcong pointed to the West Wing across the courtyard: “It’s been cleaned and ready for your use. The book boxes are all in the room; the servants were afraid of damaging them, so they didn’t dare move them. Call out when you want to organize, and I’ll give you a hand.”
He didn’t wait for Xie Jing’s reply; turning his head, he saw that Xie Jing was gazing at the study prepared specifically for him, eyes filled with a hint of surprise.
“Did the Prince’s Mansion does not have a study before?”
Lu Lingcong said, “It did, in the outer courtyard, facing east; though spacious, it’s cold in winter and hot in summer, not exactly comfortable for staying in. But I don’t use it much myself, so it didn’t really matter.”
He felt he shouldn’t be a silent benefactor, so he continued to explain: “This room is next to the side room with the bathhouse, and in winter, it shares the same underfloor heating, so it’s no less warm than the main house; the front door faces the pond, and the back door faces the lake, so in summer, with the cross-breeze, it’s even cooler than the main house.”
Having the advantages of the study laid out so clearly made Xie Jing feel a little embarrassed but also vaguely somewhat delighted.
He edged a little closer, and Lu Lingcong’s eyelashes fluttered faintly at Xie Jing’s question, “Did you pick it out for me?”
Without waiting for Lu Lingcong to confirm or deny, and before he even had time to react, Xie Jing grabbed the railing with one hand to steady himself, leaned forward slightly by half a foot, and tilted his head up to kiss Lu Lingcong on the cheek.
His tongue barely brushed the skin before withdrawing, leaving a trace of wetness, and all the scenes from last night surged through his mind like a mountain crashing and a sea raging.
“Thank you.”
Lu Lingcong hadn’t even heard the end of his “thank you” before he leapt from his seat. By the time he came to his senses, he realized his ears were flushed, and he had already dashed out from beneath the porch.
Xie Jing stayed leaning where he was while watching the tall figure awkwardly vanish into the inner courtyard, quietly amused for a long while. Then he rose, strolled slowly to the opposite side, and pushed open the door to the West Wing—which was the study Lu Lingcong had chosen for him.
It was quiet inside with only two maids standing by; seeing him enter, they tacitly and quickly poured tea and hung up the curtain hooks for his convenience.
Xie Jing didn’t know what the room was originally used for, but there was no doubt that Lu Lingcong had done more than just have it “cleaned.”
He saw at a glance that the layout of the inner room was modeled after his own residence at the Xie family: the bookshelf, the sitting couch, the low table, the scroll jar, the qin table, the duobao cabinet[mfn]A duobao cabinet is a type of antique or vintage Chinese cabinet, often a display cabinet, known for its multiple compartments or “many treasures”.[/mfn], and even the positions of the painted screen and the lamps were all arranged according to his usual habits and preferences.
Lu Lingcong had seen his room only once, in the dark during last year’s Qixi Festival. Whether he remembered every detail or had asked about it afterward, Xie Jing did not know.
He lifted his head vaguely and saw a horizontal plaque hanging above the moon gate of the inner room with five characters inscribed in Quxia style. It was his own handwriting: “A Bowl Amidst the Snowy Pines and Whispering Wind.”
He certainly didn’t remember leaving any calligraphy for Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
Xie Jing stood there pondering for a long time before he was barely able to recall that this was what the owner of Qinhuai Chun had persistently begged him to write after he and Lu Lingcong played chess behind a curtain and then went there for a meal. Because he had overturned his table without rhyme or reason the previous time, he felt slightly apologetic and readily agreed then.
At the time, the boss had been overjoyed, clutching these five characters, yet Xie Jing wondered what he thought afterward when Lu Lingcong actually managed to take them from him.
Tidying the bookshelves was indeed a huge project. Since Lu Lingcong had personally said, “I’ll lend you a hand,” Xie Jing was happy to take advantage of him, so he left the book boxes untouched, planning to open them after Lu Lingcong returned.
Just as he stood there idly, there was a knock on the outer door. Xie Jing poked his head out and saw a white-haired old man. It was Steward Zhou, whom Lu Lingcong had introduced him to at the banquet yesterday, who bowed tremulously and said, “This old servant has found the things the Princess Consort asked for.”
He knew this was a trusted retainer Lu Lingcong had brought out of the palace, so he quickly stepped forward to help the man up, led him into the inner room, and ordered a maid to bring a seat.
“It’s really too much trouble for Uncle Zhou; there was no need to rush like this.”
Before leaving that morning, Xie Jing had instructed a maid to help him locate the Prince’s Mansion’s account books from the past few years to examine them, but unexpectedly, he ended up alarming the steward directly. However, it was only natural that such important matters would not be entrusted casually to ordinary servants.
The kind-looking old man said, “His Highness instructed us early on to serve the Princess Consort with utmost care. It is only right for the Princess Consort to look at the account books; this old servant dares not be less than diligent.”
After speaking, he raised his hand. The maid immediately understood and glanced outside. Two servants entered, each carrying a stack of account books, and carefully set them down on the table before Xie Jing.
Xie Jing nodded and smiled, “To be honest, I don’t quite understand these things; I originally intended to figure them out myself when I had nothing to do. If you have some free time, would you be willing to teach me?”
So on the first day of his marriage, Xie Jing was tucked away in the study for half the afternoon while listening to Uncle Zhou report every detail of the Prince’s Mansion’s income and expenditure and both its overt and hidden properties, and then he diligently spent time learning how to use an abacus.
Daylights are short in winter. Uncle Zhou took his leave first to arrange dinner. When Xie Jing arrived at the flower hall and found only himself there, he was informed that Lu Lingcong had gone out in the afternoon on business and was delayed, unable to return for a while. He didn’t mind either, ate on his own, and then returned to the study. The maids had already lit the lamps, and he leaned over the desk once more, poring over the tiny, ant-like characters.
Lu Lingcong had indeed not lied to him; the warmth did not diminish even as the night deepened. Xie Jing even slightly opened his collar a few inches to dissipate heat, and it wasn’t until he heard the watchman’s drum and saw the maid on night duty dozing off by the incense burner that he knew it was time for bed.
The door to the main house was open. Xie Jing was about to step inside when he heard people talking within, though he couldn’t see their faces due to the screen.
“…The Princess Consort’s complexion is not pale; his cheeks are flushed, not bruised, which does not indicate qi deficiency or physical weakness. Your Highness need not be concerned. As for his slender frame, that is natural; dietary supplements will suffice, and there is no serious issue.” The voice was slow and unfamiliar.
“Regarding how to supplement his diet, go and instruct the kitchen yourself.” This was Lu Lingcong’s voice.
“This minister understands. As for—”
“Just say it directly, are his chances of having heirs slim, or is it something else?”
“That is not it. It’s just that this minister doesn’t know Your Highness’s intention.”
“My intention?”
“If Your Highness desires it, you could naturally share with the Princess Consort the joys of children and family, the blessing of children and grandchildren around you.”
The room was silent for a moment, and then the unfamiliar voice spoke again: “If Your Highness does not desire it…”
Xie Jing didn’t continue listening. He withdrew the foot that was about to cross the threshold while silently reciting, “I would rather not speak words against one’s conscience,” then turned and walked straight toward the side room.
Lu Lingcong’s long-delayed answer was left behind and unheard by him; the words were vague and ethereal, easily swept away by the night wind, leaving no trace at all.
